And All I Loved, I Loved Alone
by forgetmenot87
Summary: The thoughts of each of the Sannin as they die, revealed.The quote is by Poe, and Tsunade is next!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first fanfic, and I decided to do a three-shot centered around the Sannin. I've always thought their story is one that should be told with greater detail in Naruto. It's a tragic story, and filled with angst, but it isn't what i really center around, so if you're not a fan of angst, I think you'll still find stories you like.

**I. Jiraiya has never loved a woman**

Or, at least, that's what he tells himself. Jiraiya thinks of his life as a string of sudden lights and darks. He's always tried to believe that there was less dark than light during his life. And if he ever, really, truly loved a woman, (and he doesn't love a woman, he doesn't) then it's just one more reason. Another reason shoved in his face that his life was a failure, if there weren't enough of one already (and Jiraiya wonders _when _he'll stop being a fucking optimist and just admit his story is no heroic tale, it's a tragedy, and nothing more or less).

Jiraiya doesn't want to live, never wanted to live, why would he, when every moment of his life is old and wasted and just has-beens. His best friend's (was he, Jiraiya wonders. Was he?) knife is still lodged deep within his back, agitating him, paining him. And yes, it hurts. It hurts like nothing else can, even after who-knew-how-many-years. It's his form of cancer; sometimes it goes away, for days and weeks and sometimes months. And then he hopes (hopes in spite of himself, he's not strong enough to kill hope yet) that it's healed, finally healed and over with. But then a fresh wave of pain crashes over him and he realizes_ it will never be over_ because it's not Orochimaru who lodged the stupid knife in so deep, it's him, his own foolish hand that did it, and it will never heal for as long as he lives and will still be his greatest regret as he dies.

Then, when he was shattered and empty and so bitter, he crossed paths with Minato. A genius among geniuses, and the son he never had. Jiraiya even believed that his story might have a happy ending yet. It seemed inevitable that Minato, Kushina, and their baby son would all somehow come together eventually; Kushina with her spitfire tomboyishness complemented Minato's calm, polite genius and their child was the perfect ending for their love story. But for all the inevitability and love and blessings in the world, it still all went to hell the instant Kyuubi was spotted, and once again, Jiraiya cursed fate, cursed the gods and found himself shattered and empty and bitter all over again.

All in all, Jiraiya's heart has already been taken, each portion claimed by different parties. He'd like to believe that there's a piece of his heart that belongs to him, and only him. Sometimes, in that strange place between sleep and wake, he thinks he knows, has always known. He's always known that his heart was never supposed to belong to him. And as Jiraiya dies, sinking through that water, he thinks of Sarutobi, of Minato, of Orochimaru, and then—

Tsunade. Her face crops up after Orochimaru. Jiraiya waited for that sharp taste in his mouth he expected to follow her name (the taste of failure, of being too weak), but it never came. Instead came a the gentle, but ever-corrosive feeling of regret. They are the survivors, maybe even the ones who should have died according to cold logic. Their relationship is strange and it runs deeper than either of them can see, but both of them stay on the surface. It is safer not to discuss the gaps in the conversation where other voices should have joined in.

Jiraiya has never loved a woman—not quite true, and not quite a lie. Sometimes he believes that there is more falsehood in that statement than truth. Maybe he loves Tsunade. It wouldn't be surprising, but Jiraiya isn't bothered about it at all. They're many things when they are together. The last of the Sannin. The pupils of the Sandaime. The most powerful shinobi in the village. Loyal teammates. Old friends.

Sometimes, he's foolish enough to try out other titles for their relationship. However it was created, he cares for her far too much. But Jiraiya knows that their path is clear and carved out already, and (he can do it, he knows he can) so Jiraiya deliberately turns his face from the wilderness that he wants to travel, and heads for the well-beaten track of tragedy.

A movie reel starts in his head, flashing by images that might have been. (_Of all sad words of tongue or pen; the saddest are these: 'It might have been'..._) He thinks to himself that whoever invented the red string was on crack, because Tsunade was certainly _not _the woman who he should have loved. (_He sees Tsunade, stepping down from the Hokage's position and handing the symbolic hat to an adult __Naruto_.) In another universe, Tsunade would marry Dan, and Jiraiya would be the quirky teammate who stayed single forever. (_Naruto is a father, holding a newborn child in his arms while he cries and laughs in a dysfunctional rhapsody._)

But then, Jiraiya thought, perhaps that stupid red string theory was the reason that he had never tried to deviate his path from the beaten trail. (_Tsunade is by his side, as his Tsunade and not the Godaime, and she kisses his forehead just like he always wished she would, and here, he is her Dan._) Maybe he had known all along that too much of what they were made of was broken hearts and betraying teammates and being the only ones left. (_And Jiraiya the Toad Sannin is old and withered and dying as he lies in a bed and Tsunade is there, sitting beside him while Naruto is speaking to him, his voice hoarse and cracking from a night of grief and loss and weariness._)

And he _is_ dying, not quite the death he imagined or wanted, but he's dying and slowly regret and pain and darkness cease to matter, and all that's left in him is himself. He's relieved, in a strange way, to be dying. The world has taken from him in abundance, and he in turn has taken from the world. That was the fair trade, and once it was completed, it was his time to go. Jiraiya knows that Tsunade will cry alone, and the thought is almost more painful than he can stand. He wonders if she'll ever know that she was his last thought, then decides that it doesn't matter. But in any case, right before he dies, Jiraiya leaves one last thought to the world.

_Love you, 'hime._

–


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey everyone! This took a while. My other updates won't be as long, but Orochimaru was very, very dificult to write. Again, enjoy!

**2. Orochimaru's death started with a wish**

**"**_It's said that when the gods want to punish you, they grant your wishes." _

Jiraiya would tell you that he corrupted, just like his sanity. Tsunade would tell you that he was a dead man walking from the moment his parents died. Sarutobi-sensei would say that Orochimaru's life centered around death, and perhaps he never lived in the first place. All three of them are right and wrong at the same time, like the three blind men who each touched a different part of an elephant. In the end, Orochimaru's life was nothing more than the slow tipping of dominoes, as they made their way to his death.

It was strange to think of Orochimaru as a child, and yet, thought Jiraiya, it fit. He watched Orochimaru yank a rusty sword through a man's arm, and he saw a boy pulling the wings off of flies. Orochimaru stormed out of the room in a fury after the Sandaime refused him once more, and Jiraiya remembered a child at the market, screaming and yelling in desperation, refusing to believe that he could not have everything in the world.

And Jiraiya was twenty-two, and Mitarashi Anko, that little shadow, was darting in front of the path of a kunai, gasping in pain when it struck her shoulder, but still stubbornly standing, shielding a feverish Orochimaru and staring down an Iwa shinobi with a fiery, wild glare, and for a moment, Jiraiya's thoughts flickered randomly to an memory of a woman in the land of Grass, wrapping her arms around her small daughter and daring him to try and harm her child with her eyes as he had burst into the room, adrenaline pumping and covered in blood that was not his.

Jiraiya is the only Sannin who does not fear time or death, and the only one of the trio who willingly grew up, and Tsunade has always admired that. Tsunade was dragged into adulthood by tragedy and was never quite able to forgive life. Orochimaru aged unnaturally, in sudden spurts and stops, like blurred wax that was melted and frozen again and again into different shapes, or like a time traveler that left behind bits of himself in the stream of time-space, never even noticing his loss, so fascinated was he by the strange and wonderful spectacles ahead of him.

The irony was certainly not lost on Jiraiya, and he wondered if Orochimaru had ever noticed his own aging. Perhaps he had never noticed as he grew more and more obsessed, that just as he sawed away at his humanity, he cut the remaining bonds to what he was originally attempting to preserve. Superficially, Orochimaru had retained all the traits of a child, but deep down, only a fear of the metaphysical remained as a proof of innocence. In truth, Orochimaru feared the idea of "forever" almost as much as he feared death.

Jiraiya threw a pebble into a pond, his face a passive mask. It was sad, he noticed abstractly. Jiraiya couldn't quite actually feel the sorrow, maybe he was too old and experienced for that. It lapped faintly at the corners of his mind, like an old spring that had momentarily welled up again, instead of the flood of misery that had swept him away so long ago. It seemed so hopeless, he mused. Jiraiya always had believed in the new generation, and yet _they_ had been no different at that time, had they?  
No, they hadn't been any different, Jiraiya knew. He could say pretty words and declare all he wanted to, but the truth was there: everyone else had said the same things about _them_. So what made Team 7 any different from the Sannin? Sasuke sought power desperately, Sakura was another hot-tempered Tsunade, and Naruto... Naruto could have been Jiraiya's brother in another reality. The cycle had repeated, just as they had all hoped it wouldn't.

And yet...

It was a distortion in the otherwise flawless mirror, a ridge where a valley should have been, an extra paragraph of hope in the story that Jiraiya couldn't help noticing. Because Sakura was not Tsunade, who had been thrown into the cruelty of war, she was Sakura and she had willingly walked into a world of darkness for love and loyalty and friendship. Because Sasuke was not Orochimaru, and had forced himself into corruption and power instead of drowning in it. Because Naruto burned brighter than Jiraiya ever could, and had always been the better man. Because all of them had somehow managed to move on, for better or worse, and refused to accept the idea of destiny or hopelessness.

Ripples creased the water, but once more faded, and Jiraiya threw another pebble into the pond, his movements loose but mechanic. And another pebble crashed into the water, more forcefully, and Jiraiya watched the ripples fade once more. Just like the ripples, so too were they ephemeral, he observed impassively. The Sannin were fleeting appearances in time, pictures rather than stories. They were the oft-told story of degradation and ruin, falling from the zenith of their time, and living for the sake of living.

Naruto would never be like him, he thought, and it may have been cruel, but Jiraiya was strangely grateful for the fact. Neither Sasuke nor Sakura would be like _his_ teammates. How he was so sure of it, how he knew for certain that they would never live for the sake of living, Jiraiya could never say, but sometimes, in the strange moments between his waking and his sleep, Jiraiya would think, fleetingly, that perhaps Kakashi's team was the alternate universe in which the Sannin received their happy ending.

_Orochimaru was perhaps eight and they were all watching their first kill, and Jiraiya heard it. Just a swift murmur, a slip of the tongue, words that fell out, unbidden, filled with regret._

"Ahh..what was it again?"

_Jiraiya felt fear for the first time, and those words seared into his mind, those unnatural, heavy words._

_"'And all I loved, I loved alone.'"_

_Then—_

_"So be it."_

And that was the trigger, the words that set the looms of fate in motion.

A/N: 'And all I loved I loved alone' by Edgar Allen Poe. I claim no credit for either the characters or the quote!


End file.
